


Don't Marry Him (Marry Me)

by thekingslover



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Eye, Domestic Violence, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/pseuds/thekingslover
Summary: The night before Joe's wedding to someone else, he returns to his roommate Nicky with a black eye.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, joe/other
Comments: 19
Kudos: 436





	Don't Marry Him (Marry Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my joenicky tumblr sideblog, monicashipsnickyjoe. Main blog is thekingslover.
> 
> I spent ten minutes trying to think of a title before I gave up haha

The clock in the hallway chimes twelve times. In the kitchen, Nicky stands by the stove-top, waiting for the kettle to whistle. The overhead light has burned through three light-bulbs in the past month, leaving only one left. It flickers, threatening death, stranding Nicky in darkness as much as in light.

A calendar hangs on the refrigerator beside him, the one he’s yet to cross through the day. Today - no, yesterday now. Friday. The last day before the guaranteed worst day of his life - the block on the calendar with three circles around it. The one Joe drew a heart on, before Nile tried to hide it with a smiley face sticker.

The wedding invitation sits on the table, tucked in with a few overdue bills and a flyer with coupons for the nearby fast food restaurant. Nicky looked at it once when it arrived, then crammed it back into the envelope and had a drink.

When the kettle whistles, Nicky moves it from the hot burner to a cold one. He opens the cabinet door for a mug. The first one he grabs is Joe’s favorite, one Nicky made at a pottery class Joe dragged him to a few years ago now, when they first became roommates. 

“Roommate bonding time,” Joe insisted. 

It’s lopsided - too bulky in the middle. When they got back home, Nicky planned on throwing it away. Instead, Joe snatched it from his hand.

“It’s a treasure,” he said, smiling in a way that made Nicky’s heart flutter. “You made it.”

Joe has packed most everything now. That he’s left the mug… Well, Nicky can’t blame him for finally wanting rid of it.

Nicky grabs the plain white store-bought mug beside it. He pauses - halfway lowering it to the counter - when he hears the front door jostle.

Nicky has given out several keys over the years. Only one person would use it after midnight.

Lowering the mug to the counter, Nicky reaches for the tea.

He thought their encounter this afternoon had been their last before the wedding. A stilted handshake. A sad smile. 

“We’ll still hang out,” Joe lied, but Nicky let him have it. 

“Of course.”

“I’ll come over often.” Joe’s voice broke. “Every week.”

“I know, Joe,” Nicky said. “I know.”

Nicky pours the hot water from the kettle into the mug.

The front door opens. Nicky knows the length of Joe’s stride, the familiar echo of his footsteps as he leaves the foyer and enters the kitchen.

He stands there too long. Nicky is too cowardly to face him.

“Did you forget something?” he asks instead, speaking toward his tea steeping in the mug. He thinks of the lopsided one, hidden in the cabinet.

Joe breathes in deeply. “Not forgotten, not… No, never.” His words shake, uncertain and soft, so unlike Joe that Nicky can avoid looking no longer.

Joe’s wearing a plush red winter coat that Nicky is certain is his and dark pants tucked into a pair of black salt-stained boots. Snow melts in his hair. His nose and cheeks are flush with cold. And around one of his eyes, a growing bruise.

“Joe!” Nicky abandons the tea, the counter. He forgets all the tension and crosses the room in three long strides. He grabs Joe by the shoulders. The light flickers again, covering them in darkness. Nicky curses. He needs to see.

“Nicky,” Joe whispers, or perhaps its the whisper of the wind on the window.

The light returns, and Joe definitely has a black eye. Nicky curses louder.

“It’s nothing,” Joe says, but he doesn’t pull away or try to hide. He looks back at Nicky, softness in his good eye as the other swells closed.

Nicky nudges Joe toward the table. “Sit.” When Joe pulls out a chair, Nicky goes to the fridge. He yanks the freezer door open so quickly, he barely notices the way it catches the top of the calendar and flings it to the ground. The fruit-shaped magnets clatter along the floorboards toward the wall.

Nicky retrieves a bag of frozen peas from the back of the freezer and brings it to Joe. He presses it to Joe’s eye.

“Hold this here,” Nicky says.

Joe winces. “It’s cold.”

“It will slow the swelling.”

“I know. I know.” Joe’s hands brush Nicky’s on the bag. Nicky doesn’t shy away until he is certain Joe has a secure hold. Then he stands there, unsure, nerves buzzing, anger hot. Someone hit Joe. Someone. Someone…

Joe was visiting his fiance tonight, taking over a few of the boxes.

“If it helps,” Joe says, tilting his head to look up at Nicky with his good eye, “I had it coming.”

“No.” Nicky refuses to believe that. In no universe should any harm come to Joe. He should always be happy, always be smiling, surrounded by love and hope and laughter.

“It was my fault,” Joe says, then again when Nicky shakes his head. “I was lying to him.”

“That is no reason -”

“I lied to you, too.”

Nicky’s words catch. But, no, even then. “That is no reason,” he says again, softer. In truth, Nicky lied too, to Joe.

Omission is a form of lying.

A month ago, Joe sat Nicky down on the couch and asked, “Be my best man.”

“No,” Nicky said, unable to stop himself.

Joe blinked, surprised. “No? Why?”

“Do not ask me.” Nicky stood and left the room. They did not speak the rest of the day. The next morning, Nicky awoke to the smell of burning pancakes and found Joe, smiling, at the stove. 

He never asked again.

Now, Joe kicks the chair out beside his. “Sit, Nicky. You make me nervous. I don’t want to have to chase you all the way to his house.”

“He _hit_ you, Joe.”

“Sit. Let me explain.” Joe presses his lips together and gives his best doe-eyed look, the one Nicky has never been able to resist. It cools the anger a bit, enough for Nicky to plop into the awaiting chair.

Joe rearranges the bag of peas, pulling it too far from the bruise. Nicky reaches out and adjusts it back. 

“Here,” Nicky says.

Joe places his hand over where Nicky’s is on the bag. Nicky should pull away, and he does, but not before he memorizes the feel of Joe’s fingers, chilled from the ice, brushing against Nicky’s knuckles.

“I don’t love him,” Joe says. “I never loved him.”

Nicky places his hands in his lap. This is not news to him. The evidence was clear with every false smile, every whisper-yelled argument on the porch, every ignored phone call and text, every drawn-out sigh.

“I wanted to, I think, in the beginning.” He looks away, across the tabletop to the stack of bills, the flyer, the invitation. “I wanted to be loved.”

“Joe -”

“Please let me finish.”

Nicky bites down on his tongue until it hurts, to keep from taking Joe by the shoulders and shaking him. _You are loved, Joe. You are so loved._

“I was an idiot to try with him. Worse, to let it get this far.” The bag crinkles as the ice begins to thaw. “ I really thought I could do it, too. I thought I could get married and have a family and not love my husband.” Joe shakes his head. “I’m an asshole.”

Nicky snaps, “ _No_.”

“I was going to tie him to a lifetime of misery, Nicky. Or at least a year or two until divorce.”

Granted, it was a poor choice. One that Nicky never fully understood. Every time he tried to bring it up, Joe would wave him off. “We’re fine. Everything’s great.”

They only dated a month before getting engaged. They’ve only been engaged six months. Joe has never spent the night there, and his fiance never comes over. Nicky only met him twice, both times at restaurants where Joe sat on Nicky’s side of the table while his fiance glared at them both.

“You worry too much,” Joe said then.

“He hit you,” Nicky says now.

Joe shrugs. “We were unpacking some of my things for the kitchen. I had taken two mugs, those white ones.” Nicky frowns, he hadn’t noticed any were missing. “But I couldn’t find the one… my favorite.” Joe jumps up from the chair and goes to the cabinet. He opens the door and there, right up front, the ugly mug. “I tried to convince myself I had simply forgotten it, but… I could lie to everyone else but not myself. I left it here on purpose.”

He leans against the counter. Nicky stands and joins him, near his side but not touching. He can see Joe’s good eye from here, the way he looks at the hideous mug with near reverence, same as he does every morning, when he holds it with both hands and savors his coffee. 

“I didn’t want to leave,” Joe says, soft. The light flickers, bathing the room in darkness. When it comes back, he has turned his head and is giving Nicky the same look. “I don’t.”

Nicky opens his mouth. “Then, don’t,” he says, or perhaps it’s the wind.

“You wouldn’t…” Joe goes quiet, and Nicky, despite straining, cannot hear.

“Joe?”

Joe takes a breath, it puffs out his chest and his shoulders. “I would never risk our friendship.”

“Our friendship is not in danger.” Nicky is suddenly overcome with a desire to touch him, and does, splaying his palm against Joe’s bicep over the coat. The single point of contact is an anchor in the storm brewing inside of him. “Nothing you could ever say would change that.”

When Joe hesitates, Nicky squeezes his arm. “Do you trust me?”

Joe’s gaze returns to his in an instant. “Of course!”

“Then, trust me,” Nicky says, _insists_ , “And risk it.”

Joe lowers the bag of peas. Nicky reaches to stop him, but Joe catches that hand. He brings it to his mouth and kisses Nicky’s palm. Nicky watches, disbelieving his own eyes and the feel of lips to his skin. His mind is a litany of pleas, _Let this be real._ A string of begging, _Please, please, please._

“I can’t marry him. I won’t. And I was fool to think I could try.” Closing his eyes, Joe drops his forehead to Nicky’s wrist. “How closely I walked toward the worst mistake of my life.”

Nicky exhales. When did he start holding his breath? 

“Let me stay by your side,” Joe says, voice moving quickly now. “I ran from my feelings, Nicky, afraid it would ruin everything. But that running was what nearly ruined it.” Leaning back, he looks at Nicky, good eye damp, the other fully swollen. “I don’t want to be without you. As a friend, as a roommate, as whatever you wish.”

Nicky grips Joe’s bicep. The world spins. He might fall over.

“I love you, Nicolò.” Joe holds Nicky’s hand in both of his. One is cold from the ice. “I love you so much, it frightens me. You are weaved deep into the core of me, so intrinsic to my being that I fear I cannot live without your smile. Your touch…” His thumbs press into Nicky’s palm. “Even a handshake… I was a walking dead before I met you, unknowing of any true pleasures, and you brought me to life.“

Nicky is too overwhelmed to say anything. His heart is so swollen with love that his chest aches.

“Friendship is enough,” Joe’s voice breaks again, desperate. “But let me stay. Please let me stay.”

With that, Nicky finds his voice, “You must stay.” There can be no question.

Joe’s relief punches the breath from him. The fear ebbs from his face, the desperation eases. When his hold on Nicky loosens, Nicky snakes his hand away to grab the frozen peas and return them to Joe’s eye.

Joe hisses, but he’s smiling too. “You know, it wasn’t just the mug.”

“No?”

“This is your coat.” Joe unzips it. “I wore it knowing I would have to return it.”

“You’ve worn it before.”

“I like it, it’s yours,” Joe says. His smile is charming, younger somehow, than even before. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Nicky knows that. But. “I have been a poor friend to you.”

“No -”

“I should have told you. There were many chances. When you told me about him. When you told me of the engagement. And before even that, when I knew how I felt for you.”

Joe reaches for Nicky, catching both arms at the elbows.

“You cannot marry him,” Nicky says, and Joe nods. He keeps nodding as Nicky continues, “Your smile with him is false. You need someone that brings you true happiness. Because your smile, your _true_ smile… it is beautiful, Yusuf. As are you.”

Joe stills, watching and waiting. Nicky waits too, for the words to come. He inhales, drawing strength from Joe’s courage and love, to find his own.

“I have loved you for some time. Perhaps from the first moment I met you.”

“ _Nicky_.” Joe pulls him closer. The frozen peas get discarded on the counter as Joe noses at Nicky’s jaw. Leaning into him, Nicky clutches at his shoulders with both hands, bunching the coat. Joe shucks it off. They let it fall to the floor.

“These months have been torture.” Nicky kisses at Joe’s ear and at his hairline, lips touching curls.

“Never again, my love,” Joe says. This close, Nicky can feel the rumble of the words from Joe’s chest to his. “I vow to you.”

“Stay. Please stay.”

Joe kisses across Nicky’s cheek. Their lips brush but do not linger. “He asked me if I was in love with you. I could lie about everything, but not that. Never that.” Joe leans back, just enough to meet Nicky’s eyes. “I will love you forever.”

Nicky holds his gaze. “I will love you twice that.”

Joe laughs, smile big and bright. Nicky, unable to stop himself, and no longer needing to, presses forward and kisses him.

The light flickers out. It doesn’t come back, not as Nicky licks his way into Joe’s mouth. Not as Joe tugs off Nicky’s shirt. Not as they both shuffle, tripping, to the staircase.

“Mine or yours?” Joe asks between kisses. He has Nicky pressed against the wall of the hallway.

“Ours,” Nicky says.

Joe smiles against his mouth. “I like that.” 

They kiss again, Nicky can’t get enough.

Joe breaks it too soon. “But, my ours or your ours?” His brow furrows. “Should we flip a coin?”

“My bathroom is bigger,” Nicky says, latching onto Joe’s neck.

“Sold.” Joe drags Nicky to the bedroom, now theirs. They fall into bed and waste no more time.

*

Bonus:

The wedding is a mess to untangle. Deposits are lost, and they spend most of the morning making phone calls down the guest-list. No one seems particularly surprised, however. Or upset.

Their friend Nile breathes such a loud sigh of relief that it crackles in the phone speakers. “You guys had me worried.” With them still on the phone, she runs to tell Booker in the other room. 

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Their friend Andy admits, “I never bought a plane ticket,” despite having RSVP’d, while Quynh cheers in the background, “Finally!”

Lykon apologizes for the gift he sent: the cheapest, ugliest toaster he could find. “Nobody liked that guy, Joe. I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“Me, too.” Joe squeezes Nicky’s hand.

“Me, three,” Nicky says, and Joe kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
